Angel's Wings
by AngelMagi42
Summary: A Mysterious figure discovers HP on the Doorstep of No4, and takes him away after discovering the sheer number of blocks placed on him. He awakens the latent Magus inheritance from the Peverell line (Ignotius Peverell is the ancestor) and begins to train him from age 5. Rating May Change. Will likely be !Super!Harry Mostly a mix between books and films for the basis. AR story
1. Chapter 1

**Angel's Wings: Chapter 1**

A Mysterious figure discovers HP on the Doorstep of No4, and takes him away after discovering the sheer number of blocks placed on him. He awakens the latent Magus inheritance from the Peverell line (Ignotius Peverell is the ancestor) and begins to train him from age 5. Join Harry through his training as a Magus, makes friends, and finally goes to Hogwarts. This may end up Super!Harry!. No pairings at the moment, but possibly HHr in the future. In this story Hr is also a Magus by chance, discovered when H is 6

Disclaimer: I pretty much do not own anything in this story other than the plot, the idea of the Magi, as presented in this story, and any alternate characters you see. Pretty much the bulk of this story is based on Harry Potter, with some elements being drawn from the Final Fantasy Series (with some alterations and extra spells, I am using them as the idea for the Mage Arts, a set of special spells that only Magi can use).

A.N. The majority of Chapter 1 is a direct copy of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. This is indicated by _italic_ text.

Chapter 1: Prologue – The Boy Who Lived

_Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense._

_Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere._

_The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that._

_When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming __Dudley into his high chair._

_None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window. At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive._

_It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar - a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen - then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive - no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day._

_But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt - these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills._

_Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open- mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at night-time. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery._

_He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying._

_"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard—"_

— _yes, their son, Harry—"_

_Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it._

_He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialling his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if he'd had a sister like that... but all the same, those people in cloaks..._

_He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door. "Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare: "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"_

_And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off._

_Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination._

_As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw - and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. _

"_Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly._

_The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behaviour? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife._

_Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:_

_"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"_

_"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early - it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."_

_Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters..._

_Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er - Petunia, dear - you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"_

_As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister. _

_"No," she said sharply. "Why?"_

_"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."_

_"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley._

_"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her lot."_

_Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could,_

_"Their son - he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"_

_"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly._

_"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"_

_"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."_

_"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."_

_He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something._

_Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of - well, he didn't think he could bear it._

_The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on - he yawned and turned over. It couldn't affect them..._

_How very wrong he was._

_Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all._

_A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed._

_Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore._

_Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realise he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."_

_He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times_

_he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it._

_"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."_

_He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled._

_"How did you know it was me?" she asked._

_"My dear Professor, I 've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."_

_"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall._

_"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."_

_Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily._

_"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no - even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent - I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."_

_"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."_

_"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors." _

_She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on: "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day YouKnow-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"_

_"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a sherbert lemon?"_

_"A what?"_

_"A sherbert lemon. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of"_

_"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for sherbert lemons. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"_

_"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two sherbert lemons, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name._

_"I know you haven 't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."_

_"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."_

_"Only because you're too - well - noble to use them."_

_"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."_

_Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumours that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"_

_It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another sherbert lemon and did not answer._

_"What they're_ saying_," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are - are - that they're - dead. " _

_Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped._

_"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..."_

_Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily._

_Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But – he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke - and that's why he's gone."_

_Dumbledore nodded glumly._

_"It's - it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"_

_"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."_

_Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"_

_"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"_

_"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."_

_"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"_

_"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."_

_"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous – a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future - there will be books written about Harry - every child in our world will know his name!"_

_"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"_

_Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it._

_"Hagrid's bringing him."_

_"You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"_

"_I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore._

_"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"_

_A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them._

_If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild – long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets._

_"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"_

_"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."_

_"No problems, were there?"_

_"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."_

_Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning._

_"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall._

_"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."_

_"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"_

_"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give him here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."_

_Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house._

_"Could I - could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog._

_"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"_

_"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles -"_

_"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out._

_"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."_

_"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir."_

_Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night._

_"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply._

_Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four._

_"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone._

A.N. This is where the plotline begins to deviate from the original storyline.

A breeze suddenly picked up, ruffling the neat hedges of Privet Drive. Suddenly, a ball of blue fire formed, out of which came a figure. The figure appeared to be a tall male, with a swimmer's build, had long, bizarre looking red hair, that almost appeared to be a cross between long feathers and flickering fire fire. The figure was wearing robes that seemed as if weaved from liquid gold, and possessed some unusual features. Firstly, he possessed a long, straight horn, at the very centre of his forehead. The second, perhaps stranger feature, was the wings sprouting from his back. A whitish silver colour, as tall as the figure himself, and folded in slightly, so that his arms would be free to move.

The figure slowly walked down towards Number Four, Privet Drive and stared straight at Harry, bundled in the blankets. He turned and walked towards the child muttering as he did.

"What person… foolish as… leave a baby outdoors… middle of Autumn… freezing… exposed to the… what if someone came along… took him or worse…"

He continued on in this vein as he drew a rather odd looking item from a pocket in his long flowing robes. As he pulled it out, it became clear that as large as it was, it should have been impossible to fit it in. It appeared to be a long, intricately carved pole, with a large, blood red stone moulded into a lifelike bird, placed at the tip. He moved the pole intricately and rapidly, muttering as he did so. This time, it seemed to be long, intricate phrases in several languages.

"Nullam in virtute, salus Ostende mihi puero hoc, Με τη δύναμη της μαγείας, να μου δείξετε την υγεία του παιδιού, **بواسطة****قوة****السحر،****تريني****صحة****هذا****الطفل**, 魔法の力によって、私は、この子どもの健康状態を見せてください, Með krafti Magic, vinsamlegast sýna mér heilsu þessa barns, Magic gücü ilə, mənə bu uşağın sağlamlıq göstərmək edin, Faoi chumhacht de Magic, le do thoil thaispeáint dom do shláinte an Linbh: LIBRA MEDELLA"

Although no outward effect occurred with the soft-spoken exclaimation, the person suddenly was inundated with information on the physical, mental and magical health of the child.

Name (AGE): Harry James Potter-Peverell (1 year 3 months EXACTLY)

Physical Health: Beginning stages of cold or flu (A.N. For the sake of argument, the early stages of both viruses are not differentiated enough for this spell to determine which one was the case), Low core body temperature (Mild Hypothermia), Curse Scar (_Avada Kedavra-l.1 Death Magick_).

Mental Health: Eidetic Memory Block (APWBD/TMR), _Memoria Caligo_ curse (APWBD), Various Mental Suppressions (APWBD/TMR) – All Illegally Placed

Magical Health: 50% Core Block (Parental, will fade automatically July 31 1991) 45% Core Block (APWBD – Illegally placed), Polygloty block (TMR – Soul Jar Block – Parseltongue is unlocked), Omni-Animagus Block (APWBD – Illegally Placed), Core Alteration (APWBD) Magus Block (Unknown bloodline Curse – Peverell Descendent, dismantle by draining keystone in seal), Shapeshifter Block (APWBD – Illegally Placed), Empath Block (Parental, fading), Summon Block (Phoenix Summon: Extracted, Other Summons Blocked – Block placed by APWBD). Loyalty/Compulsion/Temper/Hatred amplifying charms – Placed by APWBD – Keyed to APWBD/APWBD/STS, TMR, Malfoys, Slytherins/Causes mundane Relatives to abuse child – minor hatred/jealousy without charm)

ALERT: Soul Fragment – TMR – More than 1 Created: Blocking Soul Bond.

Need to say, he was shocked. Once he had collected himself, he created a parchment copy with a wave of his pole, and then proceeded to pick the child up – muttering again about how he was a Peverell, an ancient Mage Line that was thought lost after the Hallowed Brothers, and needed help. As he walked back to the end of the street, he spoke, in a lyrical voice:

"I, Chaotoformes Gaia Maijus, Grand Archmagus of Gaia, Lord _in triad_ of the Eternal and Most Royal House of Maijus, Defender of the Realm, Also known as Alexander MacKenzie, of the Clan MacKenzie, hereby swear upon my Magick, my Life, my power and my blood that I shall protect ye, Heir of Peverell, and Raise ye as if of my own blood, until such time as ye release me from this solemn Oath of Guardianship or until ye are of Age. After this I swear to give you advice and guidance to the best of my ability and aid ye in Battle from this day forth. So I have Spoken, as it is Written in the Ancient Book of Time itself, So Mote IT BE!" – A golden flash followed his oath, and the newly identified Chaotoformes, a Magus, vanished in a ball of blue fire once more.

Harry Potter's disappearance was not noticed for the next three years. For five years following the search continued but the Ministry of Magic was unable to find even the smallest trace of the child.

Coming Up:

Chaotoformes and a team of mages start working on removing the bulk of the blocks, and awakening his Magus heritage:

Harry Begins Training Age 6

First Hints of Harry for Britain

And possibly other things as well.

A.N. The languages in the chant are (in order): Latin, Greek, Arabic, Japanese, Icelandic, Azerbaijani and Irish Gaelic – I'll admit I used Google Translate with the following phrase By the power of Magic, please show me the health of this Child. Afterwards, I combined the Final Fantasy Spell (Libra, interchangeable with Scan) and added health to it in Latin (medella is one translation of health, the default is salutem, but that is health as in a toast). Libra will be a multipurpose spell, with the ending affecting the function (mago – magic, medella – health, léarscáil (Irish Gaelic) – generates map of building or location and, protegum – protections such as wards or physical defences such as external walls – any other ideas for it please PM me, if I like it and can fit it in, I will. I already have plans. While the last would normally be shouted (hence capitals) in this case it is being done in a whisper,with the last two words being spoken normally, so as not to wake any of the residents. All other variants I shall write an English phrase, and that would be spoken in each language, although as the spell can be cast without the chant, it would be weaker – AngelMagi42.

AngelWings42 – Well, my first chapter is now done, what did you think. Please give me some constructive criticism, I will work some more on the next chapter tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Angel's Wings: Chapter 2**

Disclaimer: As Before, The plot, the Magi as in this story and any OC's are my own, as are in part any modified/new spells. Anything you recognise is likely owned by one person or another, with the bulk belonging to J.K. Rowling and Square Enix.

A.N. Most Magi Arts will be explained either in this chapter or the next. As it is a part of the story plot at the start of this chapter, White Magi are those who are aligned with the healing magicks that Magi alone can use. A lot of these magics will have some basis in the White Magic of the Final Fantasy Series, although many will be developed further. The majority of the White Magic used in this chapter will be dispelling magic, although the spell in the games of the same name will not be used. At the end, rather than having a five year old Harry calling Chaotoformes by his full name, he will refer to Chaotoformes as Uncle Chaos (a shortened form of the full name, I thought.). From now on, I will mostly be referring to Chaotoformes as either Gaia, or as Uncle Chaos if it is from Harry's POV. I will only be using Chaotoformes if it is a formal situation, and it is necessary.

Previously:

Gaia finds Harry Potter on Number 4's Doorstep, finds out that he has had the majority of his powers blocked and takes him away to unblock him. As he is a potential Magus through his Peverell inheritance, Gaia has decided to raise Harry and train him in the Magi Arts.

Chapter 2: Releasing the Blocks

Gaia re-appeared in front of an ancient and picturesque castle, having taken Harry from the doorstep of Number 4, Privet Drive. As he approaches the building, the doors open as if they can sense his presence. Once he is inside, he withdraws his stave (A.N. from this point forward, the 'pole' mentioned in the previous chapter is a stave. – AngelMagi42) and whispers into the tip, channelling his magic into the tip.

"This is Lord Chaotoformes Gaia Maijus. Calling all White Magi to Maijus Manor – Category 5 Blocks – Please come to the Ritual Chamber on the second floor at once."

He then slammed his stave into the ground, and incanted: "Traducit Insulae voce defer mea. SONABITE INFINITUS!" (A.N. The sentence was translated from Carry my voice across the Isle. Sonabite is altered from sonabit – resonate, and infinitus is a step up from maximus in this story)

He then ascended the stairs and quickly marched towards the intricately carved doors that formed the entrance, and seal, of the ritual chamber. This room was designed for the performance of rituals, but a side effect was that the chamber would absorb sudden bursts of magic, preventing it from causing harm while a person's magic was out of control, making it the perfect place to remove the massive number of blocks on Harry safely. Gaia opened the doors, which seemed to almost pulse under his hands, and walked in. He glowed brown, and seemed to trill softly. As he did so, a table seemed to grow out of the ground, with a soft top to put Harry on while he and the other White Magi started to remove the blocks.

After a few minutes, all 49 White Magi filtered in, and Gaia spoke.

"As most of you know, a major event happened just yesterday evening, resulting in the one known as the Dark Lord Voldemort losing his physical form. He has not died yet. I investigated and discovered a child being removed. He seemed to have vast quantities of magic being suppressed, so I found out where he was being moved. When I found him again, he had been **abandoned** on the doorstep of a mundane family. I used the health scan spell to check if he was in good health. He was not." He then proceeded to list each and every thing Harry was suffering from, before explaining why he had called the White Magi.

"With the sheer number of blocks on him, it would have been fatal for just one person to remove the blocks. However, I brought him here after discovering that he is a descendent of the Peverell Line, and was able to discover the keystone part of the curse. I will be destroying that personally. As a result of his Peverell blood, I have sworn that I would protect and raise him until he reaches majority. Now, may I ask that all of you assist me in releasing the blocks?"

After the assembled White Magi all agreed, they formed into seven concentric circles of seven, with Gaia in the very centre. And so they began. First off, they decided to transfer the soul fragment, as this was likely to interfere in the process. Gaia lead the ritual:

"Per gratiam magicae ego Chaotoformes Gaia Maijus, hoc vocant in mortis imperium se ut aufero hoc fragmentum animæ ac reponite in uase hanc inanimatis. Sic fiat semper."

This was repeated seven times, and a black vapour-like form withdrew from the curse scar and flew into a crystal sphere conjured for this purpose. This would later be used to find the rest of the soul this fragment belonged to. It was decided that the mental blocks would be removed fully first, starting with the _Memoria Caligo_ curse. This would help Harry control his magic as it was released.

"_Ortus Multitudinum Caligo Quae Mentis_"

A white mist flew from the various foci that the White Magi were using, and entered Harry's head, after a few minutes the mist withdrew, surrounding a purple fog which was promptly destroyed by a blast of fire. Afterwards, they began to chant anew:

"Purgare et restituere mens sit puero huic magicae potentia ad eius plenam, Restituere eidetic memoriae pueri huius, Dimittere mentem pueri huius. Per virtutem divina. Sic fiat semper!"

A web was revealed over the sleeping form of Harry, and started unravelling. By the end, what once looked like a ball of yarn was now showing a complex weave of thought and memory, as if his mind had never been trapped by the web of spells placed to suppress his mind. After this they began to restore his magic. They needed to do this in a specific order. First, they removed the Core Blocks:

"Dimittere core magicae intrinsecus puero hoc. Sic fiat semper."

Upon the last word, an immense wave of magic was released, which took a good few minutes to withdraw. Once this had happened, the White Magi started to remove the blocks on his abilities. Fortunately one was taken care of with the soul fragment already, so they worked on his shapeshifting, his Empathic powers and his core alteration. This was all done at once, and his stolen summon would need to be found and restored to release the block:

"Restituere potentiarum dotatis quibuscunque puero hoc. Ad suum formae verae magicae reparare, restituere formae potestate situm est mutare suam, restituenda affectibus sentiendi vim aliorum"

As they spoke, his magical core became visible, a great sphere of gold and red. With the second part of the invocation, his core mutated to become an even larger sphere of silver and gold, with streaks of every colour running through. This showed that he would be powerful in many areas when he was older. Then he started shapeshifting, flowing through many different hair colours, skin colours, body shapes and more, until he settled into his original form. Finally, his magic began to reach out, and the more sensitive magi who were on the island at the time reported feeling a probe that was sensing their emotions, which is remarkable for any empathic mage, let alone one who is less than two years old and untrained.

Once this was done, many of the younger Magi in the ritual room collapsed, having expended much of their magic. Gaia waved his hand, and they all flashed away. Gaia then walked the towards the infirmary, making sure that all the collapsed Magi had arrived safely. Occasionally, he knew, flashing someone to another location can go wrong, but it is a rather efficient way of moving unconscious people. The other Maji were dismissed, having followed Gaia to the infirmary. He weaved a monitor around the infirmary, and left to create a new room for his charge.

As he walked to the family wing on the 5th floor, he suddenly felt an intruder entering his castle. He launched a silent pulse to determine who or what had entered, and discovered it was a Phoenix summon. The summon quickly reached Gaia and Harry, and suddenly flew straight into Harry's chest, being absorbed in the process. Then immediately the summon block was destroyed by the force of Harry receiving his summon again. They continued up to the fifth floor, to find the old nursery next to the Master's Suite. It was perfect for now, so all Gaia did was conjure a cot for Harry, and weave layer upon layer of monitoring wards so that if Harry woke up, he would know. The next day, he removed the curse placed on the Peverell line, and Harry transformed to his true form. All Magi possess one or two unique characteristics, mostly passed on through the line. Harry developed the silver streak of hair, the black, falcon-like wings and the glowing eyes that were common to the Peverell line, even if they mostly were able to hide their unusual features.

For the next few years, Gaia looked after Harry, who grew into a fairly mature young child. When he turned five, the Council of Magi decided that it was time for Harry to begin training. So, the next day, they arranged for Harry to discover his alignment. This is an important part of training as a Magus, for not every mage can cast certain types of Magi Arts. Gaia had spoken to Harry that night about the Alignment Test.

(A.N. Time Jump, it's now just after Harry's 5th Birthday, so early August 1985 if I've done the math's correctly)

"Harry, you know that tomorrow you will be learning about your Alignment, yes?"

"Yes Uncle Chaos, I know. How does that work anyway?" Harry asked

"Well, Harry, the Alignment Orb is a magical artefact which can determine which Magi Arts you will be able to cast. If like myself you end up living for a ridiculously long time, you will eventually find a way to cast most Magi Arts, but for now you will be focusing on your affinities." Gaia explained

"How old are you, then, Uncle Chaos?"

"Hm, let me think about this for a bit… Ah yes, after a time magic incident I got sent to the very beginning of time itself, I was in my 20s then so I'm several billion years old. Most Magi don't live that long, I think the accident gave me some bizarre form of immortality, to be honest, but no-one knows how or why." Gaia answered after thinking about it for a few minutes.

"Wow, that's old" Harry said, shocked. "Do you think I could be that old one day?"

"Possibly" was the hesitant reply.

"Cool. Anyways, what types of Magi Arts are there?" Harry wondered.

"There's several schools of thought on this, the one I follow is the 'Colours' System. Black Magic, my weakest affinity, is primarily battle magics, although any elemental spell, such as Elemental Shifting, which is the ball of fire transportation I often use, although the other seven elements have their own version. White Magic, my Primary Affinity, is spells that focus on Healing, Restorative, Protective and Resurrection magic. Resurrection is rather rare, as there is rules as to who can be revived when and where. At least for true Resurrection, but the other forms of resurrection, such as reanimation, are more Demonic spells. Blue Magic is primarily unusual battle or restorative magic that was developed from the innate abilities of various creatures. Those are rather difficult to learn without an affinity, but possible with the right methods. Green Magic is primarily chants or nature magic. That's mostly things like tree-walking or water-walking, which just takes focus. It also includes any way of manipulating natural energy. The final grouping, and the only one that does not have a colour assigned, is Space and Time Magic, which is near impossible with anything lower than a secondary affinity, at least for time travel or stopping time. The speed of time can be altered more easily. Space magic is gravity based, and always grouped with time magic. Any questions for that one?"

"Yep," said Harry, "What are the elements?"

"The elements are eight-fold, and are paired with their opposite. Generally, beings of one element are weakest against their pair. There is Fire and Ice, Lightning and Water, Wind and Earth, and the most powerful elements, Light and Dark. Unlike most magicals, Magi do not believe that Dark is intrinsically Evil, as some Light spells can be fatal just as easily, and the worst Dark spells can be used to save lives. I'm a Light/Fire elemental for magic, although I have learned the others by now." Gaia explained. "Now, you need to go to bed so that you can be up early to get to the Test tomorrow. Good Night, Harry."

"Night, Uncle Chaos." Harry called as he ran up to his room, which had vastly changed from the nursery it had been when Harry was first brought to the castle by Gaia years ago. Gaia chuckled, and went to bed himself, it had been a long day.

A.N. This was certainly a rather odd chapter. I originally planned to have the conversation in it's own chapter, but I'd rather have one longer chapter that has a bit of a time gap than dividing it so, because both parts were a bit short. As before, Constructive Criticism would be preferable. I decided to refer to Chaotoformes as Gaia because it was a bit of a difficult name to type out over and over again. My fault, but I did want an unusual name. A lot of people do chose to be known by their middle names, so I decided rather than change the name, I would just refer to him as Gaia, which is his middle name. Any questions about the Magi Arts or even the Elements system that I have made (loosely based on the magic systems of the Final Fantasy Series. Even though I have not written it, Harry does know of his heritage, as a Potter and as the child of James and Lily. He also knows that his Uncle Chaos found him left on a doorstep with several mental and magical blocks, and the person who did them. Gaia was able to decipher the names of the two people placing blocks on him, so when Harry and Gaia meet Dumbledore later on he will NOT like him one bit. They also know about Voldemort. This Harry Potter WILL be OOC.


End file.
